


all that i am

by vivilove



Series: Tattoos & Scars [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ex-con Jon, F/M, Falling In Love, Protective Sansa Stark, Robb acts like a dick, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Content, he'll improve eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: This probably won’t be pleasant. His best friend, or the guy he’s always considered his best friend, is about to tell him to stay away from his sister, the woman Jon’s falling hard for.“Just say it.”He’d meant to be cool, meant to leave the ball in Robb’s court after the offer of coffee but he can’t stand the tension.Might as well get this out of the way, like a band-aid being torn off tender skin.Tell me to stop seeing your sister. Tell me what you think of me.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Tattoos & Scars [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660783
Comments: 78
Kudos: 241





	all that i am

Early morning callers aren't generally that welcome at this apartment complex. Usually, early morning calls come even earlier around here. They wear body armor and carry warrants...and Glock 22s. Might have a K-9 Unit with them as well. 

A lot of people here work swing shifts or not at all. 8AM isn't a time most of them are up and ready to answer a knock on their door. But Jon's up and dressed and ready for his day. 

He thinks he's ready to face whoever's knocking, half hoping it's her returning for some reason, half wishing she's coming back for another lingering kiss goodbye to show that she can't stand leaving any more than he can stand seeing her go.

It's not her but they share some DNA anyway. 

“I’d like to know exactly what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

No hello. No nice-to-see-you-it’s-been-awhile. No nothing but the statement and the accusatory tone behind it.

Jon’s heard this more than once in his life even if the wording’s been different, from teachers, law enforcement, juvenile counselors and whatnot. He hadn’t expected to hear it from Robb but then again, why wouldn’t he? He’s trash and she’s not. They all know it.

Of course, Robb smiles as he asks it but it’s not a real smile. Jon would know. He knows Robb like the back of his hand, has since they were little boys. But maybe he doesn’t know Robb like he used to and maybe Robb doesn’t really know him either anymore. There’s some dirty water under the bridge and a gaping vast stretch of months spent up at State separating them now.

“Good morning. Want some coffee?” he offers, holding the door of his apartment wide open to show that, even with Robb’s less-than-friendly intro, he’s willing to talk to him and be civil.

Sansa left less than ten minutes ago. It was the third night in a row she’s slept over. He'd asked her last night if her mother had said anything about her spending her nights with him. 

_"_ _We've not discussed it,"_ had been Sansa's response. 

Not discussed it. Is this a secret? Is she ashamed for her mother to know about them? Or does Mrs. Stark pretend not to notice her daughter not coming home until well after sun up? 

He can't imagine Mrs. Stark hasn't noticed her eldest daughter is suddenly not coming home at night even if she is an adult. And she's bound to have noticed Jon being around a little more often though Sansa prefers being here or going places with him. Mrs. Stark had been watching them that first day though when they'd gone to Sansa's bedroom where she'd practiced her henna tattoos on him and other things. She'd seen them after they'd emerged from behind the locked door with music still playing and her eyes had been narrowed dangerously. She's bound to suspect plenty of what's going on. And to be honest, she's been watching Jon Snow's felonious ass like a hawk for a good while anyway.

And now Robb shows up at 8AM wanting to know what the fuck Jon thinks he's doing. 

He wonders if Robb’s been staking out the parking lot of his apartment complex waiting for her to leave so he can confront him alone.

Or maybe the timing just worked out.

It would’ve been a wee bit awkward if Robb had been knocking on the door right as Sansa had been sucking him off five minutes before his alarm was set to go off, that’s for sure.

 _"My girl's good...so good. You’ve got the sweetest little mouth for me to fuck along with that hot wet pussy, don’t you, baby?"_ He'd not been all that quiet babbling away, trying not to cum too soon with his hands twisted through her red hair and his cock between those pink lips of hers. He _thinks_ the alarm clock is probably repairable after he flung it across the room and begged her to keep going. 

She'd not been too quiet when he'd eaten her out in the shower afterwards either. It echoes pretty well in there and Sansa can get loud when he curls his fingers just so and flicks her clit with his tongue with just the right pressure. 

Yeah, it was one helluva wake-up for them both. So, he’s unusually chipper for this early and figures he can offer her brother coffee even if he’s due at work in thirty.

Robb folds his arms across his chest and sucks in a long breath as the offered coffee hangs heavy between them. He looks remarkably like his mother at the moment despite the difference in age and gender. That’s probably not surprising since he’d bet money that Robb’s mommy is what’s brought him over here.

“Sure,” he relents at last and steps across the threshold.

He’s wearing a shirt and tie and loafers. The suit jacket’s probably in his car, wouldn’t want it to get wrinkled. His hair's slicked back, not a curl out of place. Jon looks down at his coveralls he typically wears to the shop. They’re clean enough but it’s impossible to keep them as clean as they were the day he got them and he certainly doesn’t have them dry-cleaned or pressed. His hair's still wet from the shower and dripping onto his shoulders. 

It’s not that he thinks Robb’s better than him just because he wears a tie to work. Repairing motorcycles, fixing them up, that’s a skill that not everyone has. He's seen guys come into the shop, rich dicks acting like their God’s gift to the world because they’ve got more money than anyone but can’t even change their own goddamn oil. Fuck those guys. He doesn't consider himself lesser than any of them. Repairing something, that’s something tangible, quantifiable without needing a damn spreadsheet. And, Jon would rather yank out a few of his own fingernails than talk stocks and bonds and bullshit all day while eating Zantac like they're Tic Tacs the way Robb does.

Maybe Jon does envy Robb that degree of his though, knowing it could open different doors for him. But mostly, it’s Robb’s lack of a criminal record that makes Jon feel lesser, like he’ll always be lesser than the boy he grew up playing with nearly every day of his childhood.

He pours two cups of coffee and notices Sansa’s notebook lying on the counter, the one she’d been doodling in when he’d called in their Mu Shu Pork last night from Dragon’s Den. (It’s a little hole in the wall, mom and pop sort of place but it’s finger-licking tasty and they scored a 99 last month on their inspection-those prickly bitches at the health department are always going to mark you down for something.)

She’d been drawing sketches of some designs she’d like to try with her henna. She’s really getting good at it and a couple of her old girlfriends up here have volunteered to let her practice on them. Jon’s got a fresh one too that she’d drawn on him last night before they’d turned to different pursuits. They'd talked about the courses she's taking this summer, too. He's happy for her but a little afraid on that front. She'll ease back into college and then what does that mean for him, the ex-con at the motorcycle shop she's seeing? No one would blame her for cutting that guy out of her life once she's back on track again, would they? Jon wouldn't.

_"You could take some courses, too...if you like."_

_"Nah, I'm not..."_

_"You're not what?"_ she'd prompted when he'd trailed off.

_"I don't know if I'm capable or...something."_

_"You are."_

She'd said that like she knew it to be true. 

He’s smiling to himself, probably looking like the biggest dope he realizes when he hands Robb his cup. Robb’s studying his face. He takes a sip of his coffee to hide his grimace.

This probably won’t be pleasant. His best friend, or the guy he’s always considered his best friend, is about to tell him to stay away from his sister, the woman Jon’s falling hard for. He wonders if Mr. Stark were still alive if it’d be him coming over here to have this chat. Maybe not. Mr. Stark had always been different towards him than Mrs. Stark. This doesn’t seem like it would be Mr. Stark’s style if he had concerns about his darling daughter shacking up with an ex-con.

“Just say it.”

He’d meant to be cool, meant to leave the ball in Robb’s court after the offer of coffee but he can’t stand the tension.

Might as well get this out of the way, like a band-aid being torn off tender skin. _Tell me to stop seeing your sister. Tell me what you think of me. It won't stop anything._ He can’t just walk away from Sansa like that. She can walk away from him whenever she wants but he'll never walk away from her. 

“Why's she staying here at night? What are you doing with her?"

Jon raises his eyebrows with a wry expression wondering if Robb really wants him to draw a diagram. _I'm not as artistic as your sister but I think I could do a pretty decent stick-figure rendition_. 

Robb scowls and tries again. "Goddammit, Jon. What is she to you? What is this to you?”

There’s that tone again. He’ll be honest. It rankles. Actually, it’s fucking pissing him off.

 _“What is she to you? What is this to you?”_ If he follows that up with something like ‘Another notch in your belt?' he’ll knock every last one of Robb Stark’s white teeth out of his head.

He doesn't. He just stands there expectantly, waiting for Jon to explain himself so he can pass judgement like so many before him have. 

“She’s…We’re…”

He fumbles because emotions have always been hard for him to express and he gets emotional when it comes to her. It's not surprising really. He’s falling in love with her, already is in love with her maybe. She’s everything bright and beautiful in his world of shadows. How does he say that?

“She’s special. She means a lot to me,” he finishes lamely because it’s the best he can manage with everything he’s feeling inside. Verbalizing his feelings is a struggle, okay? 

“She’s special?” It’s a scoff the way Robb says it and it cuts Jon to the quick, cracks open his chest. He’ll never be good enough for her in their eyes. “You’re right. My sister is very special. And what do you think you have to offer her?”

He closes his eyes and swallows hard. There’s a lump swelling in his throat and around his heart, but he’ll try and make him see…no matter if he won’t care. “Whatever she wants.”

No, that’s not it. That makes it sound like he's either just wanting to offer her a good time, sex with no strings, or worse, that he actually imagines for even a second that he can give her everything she truly deserves which Robb knows perfectly well he can't if they're talking about material things.

Digging deep, he tries again. “I'll give her everything that I'm capable of giving her. I want to give her...all that I am.”

There’s a gasp and he quickly realizes it didn’t come from Robb. He opens his eyes and turns. She’s standing in the doorway of his apartment, looking every bit as gorgeous as he remembered her from when she’d left all of fifteen minutes ago.

“I forgot my notebook,” she says softly as she enters, her eyes glued on him.

There’s a tenderness he can see in her expression. It’s been there for a while maybe but he’s been afraid to recognize it, been afraid to hope. Things really have changed between them. This could possibly be a very good thing in the long run and maybe he doesn't have to be so nervous over it. 

“Here it is.” He holds it out slowly, with care. He knows how much she enjoys filling her little notebook with those sketches.

Their fingers brush as she reaches for it and it’s like some ridiculous love story the way that gets to him. When did he become such a candy ass? _When I fell for her, I guess._

She tucks the notebook into her arms, protectively…right before she rounds on her brother.

“I’d like to know exactly what the fuck you think you’re doing, Robb!”

“Mom said…”

That’s all Robb gets out before his little sister’s pinning his ears to the wall, using words that could blister the paint, telling him to mind his own fucking business and grow the fuck up.

This is not her way, Jon knows. Sansa’s not someone who screams and yells and expresses anger or frustration with foul language, not normally. He'd like to ask what alternative reality he woke up in but he knows better. This is Sansa. She'll defend those she loves, tooth and nail and, when she’s fired up, it’s in her, same as anyone else. She is a red head and she’s got that Tully temper in her, too.

And holy shitballs, Jon is far more turned on by this than he should be.

But more than that, he knows he’s only falling harder for her because she’s defending him. Sansa Stark, the girl with powder blue cardigans, mother-of-pearl earrings and approximately seven different designer handbags is defending him to her beloved big brother. Him, Aemon Jon Snow with his two dozen tattoos, countless scars, shitty apartment, parole officer, anger management counselor and post-prison job at the motorcycle repair shop, she’s sticking up for him and telling Robb where to get the fuck off.

Whatever seismic shift in the universe brought Sansa into his life in this new way, he won't second guess it again. He's going to tell her he loves her before long, too. Also, if someone said boo to him right now, he just might cry like a baby. 

“I’m sorry,” Robb mutters to him, his tail firmly tucked. “I was just…wanting to look out for her.”

“Because Mommy made you,” Sansa hisses from the sitting area where she’s pacing after finishing her diatribe. Goddamn, she’s still a threatening low boil and him and Robb exchange a shared look of concern that she’s about to blow again.

“Yeah, man. It’s fine.” It’s all he can say. He doesn’t know what else to say to this guy anymore. It hurts knowing what brought him here. It hurts a lot but right now he’s still too much in awe of Sansa to think too much on it.

“It’s _not_ fine,” he hears her growl, like a mama wolf or something. It’s funny. She reminds him a lot of Mrs. Stark too but in the best way he could imagine.

"I know you wouldn't want to hurt her but you guys were never close and...we've been worried since she came home, you know? With Joffrey and everything." 

"Shut up, Robb," she says but the fury isn't there now. She doesn't want to think about that guy. Jon can see the way she deflates at the mere mention of that name. It hurts and infuriates him on her behalf.

"We weren't close before but we are now. And you're right, I would never hurt her," he says to deflect away from the name Robb's just uttered. 

Meanwhile...Joffrey. Who is Joffrey? Oh, he knows. He knows! And he knows a name now. He'll bet Robb knows even more. And how many spineless frat boy fucks out there could be named Joffrey? _We're going to find out._ He told her he'd let it drop and he will...sort of. But he wants to know enough in case that shit calls her again, shows up here. He wants to know enough to be ready. 

"Yeah, okay," Robb nods, shooting a last imploring look towards Sansa, who ignores him, before bolting out the door. 

They’re left alone. The silence hangs heavy and his mind’s churning over all of it. The weight of it is crushing and he's feeling too many different things. It's irksome and scary and makes him feel powerless. 

“Hey.” Her voice is gentle, just letting him know she's here with him. She’s taking his hand. He hadn’t even realized she’d moved closer. Her touch is like a cool breeze on a fevered brow. He takes a deep breath. He can handle this. "I'm sorry about him."

"Don't be sorry. He did that, not you. Thanks for…thanks.” He draws her hand to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

“You're welcome. Don’t be late for work.”

“I won’t be. It’s not that far and I can run.”

“It’s cold out.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“I’ll drive you if you want.” Does he want that? Does he need the run to clear his head, burn off some anger? Or would he rather be with her a little longer? "No pressure," she adds like she's reading his thoughts. 

The anger is evaporating and he craves the comfort of her presence. “A ride would be appreciated.”

He grabs his keys and wallet and locks the front door, following her down to her car. He’s got a bike at Mance’s he’s working on. Mance says he can have it for cheap once he fixes it up. He wonders if Sansa would want to go riding sometime.

"You ever been on a bike?"

She grins and shakes her head. "Nope."

"Would you wanna?"

"With you?" He nods. "Yeah, alright. Promise not to scare me going too fast?"

"I promise." _I'll never scare you. I'd never hurt you...not intentionally. I can't make promises about my dumb mouth though. I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do._ How's he supposed to say all that?

It’s easier to think about riding with Sansa’s arms wrapped around him and her head on his shoulder than answer that question or think through what just happened too much.

But as they're riding along and he stares out the window, he can't help but think about Robb and that scene a little again. "Sansa?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for that."

"You said that earlier."

"I know but no one..." _No one has stuck up for me that way in a long time, not that way._

"You want to take care of me, right? Keep me safe?"

"You know I do." He scowls, misinterpreting her question initially. "Has he called again?"

"No, I just mean I want to take care of you, too. In the ways that I'm able to at least."

 _She_ wants to take care of _him_. Who's wanted to take care of him outside of his mother in his life? He wants to take care of her, too. "I love the way you care for me," he tells her, voice gruff with emotion. _I love you._ "I want to take care of you the best I can, too."

"You already do, Jon. You really do." 

They share a smile at the red light and before he knows it, he's at work. It's only ten blocks.

“Jon?” she says after he gives her a kiss and starts to climb out of the car.

“Yeah?”

“All that you are is already everything I could ever want. I hope you know that.”

His mouth falls open. He’s left dumbstruck as she pulls away, literally blushing like some heroine in one of those historical romances Sansa sighs over.

He’s not going to be worth shit today at the shop. He’ll probably be smiling and maybe, God forbid, whistling like a some zippity-doo-dah loon the whole shift. Hopefully, Mance won’t fire him for it.

Doesn't matter. They've got plans tonight after work and maybe he's going to make some more plans for them. 

"I love you," he murmurs to her car's fading taillights before heading into the shop right on time. 

**Author's Note:**

> There will be at least one more part of this series but it's going to be pretty long to address everything I want to address (like dealing with Sansa's ex, Jon confessing his feelings and the Starks having him around for Sunday dinner) so we'll see if I stick to one part or more. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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